a day is long (and i will be waiting for you)
by whyyesitscar
Summary: Your name is Claudia Donovan. You've been living in the Netherlands for eight months. Two months ago, you forgot what H.G. said would happen if the Family of Blood died off by themselves. Something has to happen; something always happens with H.G. Wells, The Doctor, The Oncoming Storm. You just can't remember what. H.G. can't remember anything. [B&W Doctor HG AU. Twoshot.]
1. Claudia

**A/N: I was going to wait until I had both parts of this written to upload it, but I like posting things on time and also I like this too much not to share. This was inspired by a gifset I found floating around Tumblr. I think I'll have the second chapter up later today or tomorrow, at the latest. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**.**

_And because love battles_  
_not only in its burning agricultures_  
_but also in the mouth of men and women,_  
_I will finish off by taking the path away_  
_to those who between my chest and your fragrance_  
_want to interpose their obscure plant._  
**-Pablo Neruda, "And because Love battles"**

**.**

"Claudia, you have to listen to me. We haven't much time."

For the first time in your life, you want things to be not-real. You'd give anything for a little fantasy, some bit of comfort to sink into. Back at the psych ward, back in your old life, you discovered the possibility of the Warehouse—and even though you hated it for taking Artie away from your brother, the thought of history and innovation in one very large building was enough to make your head swim. It's been your fantasy from the beginning, even when it shouldn't have been. And now it's all coming apart.

"Claudia, they're coming for me and I need your help. I am going to tell you a lot of information in very few words and I'm hoping you'll have only one in response."

"C'mon, Doc, I got a bad feeling about this."

(You don't miss her wince. You only call her 'Doc' when you're scared. Both of you prefer her usual nickname, even if you're still not sure how true it is.)

"There will be time for assurances later, Claudia. Please listen to what I have to say now." You nod slowly and the gratitude practically oozes out of her eyes. "There are people after me and I must resort to drastic measures to escape them. I can hide here for a while, but only a little while. I need you to go to the Ebbinghaus aisle—on the third bay from the right, the side with his notebook of nonsense syllables, there is a pocket watch stowed toward the back of the bottom shelf. Please retrieve it as quickly as you can."

You don't normally run, but you do today. You wish you had some of Myka's memory, or her ability to think on her feet—(come to think of it, where the hell is Myka; you could use all of her right now)—but you're just a scrawny tech nerd and right now all you have is your feet. So you run and scan the aisles, skidding when you find the right one. The watch is exactly where she said it would be, which you find troubling because you've never seen it before and you've catalogued this entire Warehouse. Your database is your baby and this isn't in it. That unsettles you more than anything.

"Got it," you say as you jog back, panting slightly.

She smiles sadly. "A part of me was hoping you wouldn't," she sighs. "Righty-ho, onward. I will tell you what the watch does, but only after you agree to accompany me on a journey."

You smile in spite of the unease roiling in your stomach. "Anytime."

She holds up a finger and cocks her head. "Think for a moment, Claudia. There are conditions to this journey. You must do exactly what I tell you—"

"Don't I always?"

"—and you must not tell any of your fellow agents."

"But—"

"None of them can know, Claudia."

"When will I be back?"

"If we succeed, barely a moment after we leave."

"Yeah, but—I mean, how long will I be gone?"

"I have no idea."

"Years?"

"It is entirely possible."

You search her face to find any hint of adventure or amusement. You only find fear.

"What will happen if I don't go with you?" you ask softly.

"These people after me, these hunters, they will suck out my life force to energize themselves. It would be too much for even a regeneration to cure." You wince and avert your eyes because you don't want to say yes—you love adventure, but this isn't adventure; it's danger—but if you don't, no one else will. "Will you come with me?" she asks again.

"Yeah," you answer, swallowing against the lump in your throat. "Course, H.G. I got your back."

She smiles and squeezes your hand. "You are a wonderful person, Claudia. Quite possibly the most wonderful companion I've ever had, though there is still time enough to change that." You laugh in spite of yourself. "However, you cannot call me Helena, H.G., or even The Doctor from now on."

She walks quickly toward the TARDIS and you jog a little to keep up. "Okay, well, what should I call you?"

She smiles and holds open the door for you, and for a moment you can pretend this is just any other adventure.

"I think we're both about to find out."

/

"Claudia, darling, do you have the schematics?"

"Yeah, H—Dr. Lake. Gimme a second."

She smiles up from her notebook of calculations, running a hand through her messy hair. She has her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a long rope of measuring tape draped around her neck—in another universe, you'd find her wildly attractive. Hell, this pretty much _is_ another universe, so maybe you do. But mostly you miss the ability to tease a certain someone about the attraction that you're pretty sure would exist at any space in time. You miss Myka. You think those two could burn up suns together if they really tried.

"You keep doing that," she says. Her American accent still sounds strange and you almost wrinkle your nose. But you've got to be careful and sometimes she lets a little of her British past slip out in her sleep, so it's alright.

"Keep doing what?" you ask, handing over the blueprints.

"You almost called me a different name. And by the way, I've asked you so many times to call me Emily. We've known each other long enough."

"Right, yeah, sorry," you say, shaking your head to clear the memories. "Emily."

She widens her smile. "So do I have a nickname I'm not aware of?"

"What? No," you fumble. "Definitely not. Um, you know, sometimes you just remind me of this friend I used to have."

Emily flips through the blueprints and makes notes in the margins. "Oh?" she inquires, her head still down. "Did you lose contact?"

"Something like that, yeah," you murmur with more gravity than you'd intended. Emily notices and looks up (and of course she does—H.G. would have noticed, too.) You blush at her frown. "She was a good friend," you explain, shrugging your shoulders. "She'll be back."

Emily gets an all-too-familiar twinkle in her eye. "_Just_ a friend?" she teases.

Your eyes widen and for a moment you forget how to speak. "Yes!" you finally blurt. "God, yes, _just_ a friend, My—well, I'd be dead if she was more than just a friend which she never _was_ and never, ever, ever will be—"

"Okay, okay," she placates, cutting off your rambling. 'Okay' sounds foreign coming from her mouth and you find yourself missing the irritating arrogance of 'alright.' "I was just kidding."

"Yeah, no big," you say, leaning over the blueprints to study her notes. "What'd you want these for?"

"Oh, I've been thinking of changing our design," Emily answers, and you roll your eyes. How many times have you had this conversation before? You've lost count.

"Again? How much of a change are we talking here?"

"Not too much, really; the rotating claw just needs to be about twelve degrees below where it is now."

You give her a scathing glare, even though you're pretty sure she's not looking at you on purpose. "Em, that would mess up the entire layout. We'd have to scrap the whole thing."

"Oh, am I Em now? Not Emily or Dr. Lake? How quickly you move, darling."

(The 'a' on the last word is longer than it would be on an actual American's tongue and you try not to smile so much. She still has just set your project back considerably.)

"I'll call you anything I want when you completely change everything at the last minute," you grumble.

"Oh, stop; you love a challenge."

"I'd have to, seeing as I live with one 24/7. Ack! No hitting! More working."

/

Your name is still Claudia Donovan. You work for the European Space Research and Technology Center in the Netherlands. The year is 2042. Technically it's been almost 30 years since you stepped foot in the Warehouse, but you're certain the older version of you is still there. You can't stop hoping that everything will work out, that H.G. will escape the people chasing her and fix everything because you can't imagine a life without the Warehouse, a life without Artie or Steve or Leena or Pete or Myka. In your darkest moments, you wonder if they're still around. They'll be ancient by now; you wonder if the Warehouse even has such a thing as desk duty.

Joshua is a professor at MIT. He teaches particle physics. You wonder what made him move back to the States, if he finally got fed up with foreign money because even though he's a math genius, currency seems to short-circuit his brain. You wonder if he talks to you on a regular basis, and the possibility that he doesn't is the only thing that stops you from picking up the phone or shooting an email.

Staying quiet is pretty tough in a world where communication can be achieved almost before you think about it.

Your name is Claudia Donovan. You build robots that move around space and planets more efficiently than humans ever could. You've been living in the Netherlands for eight months. Two months ago, you forgot what H.G. said would happen if the Family of Blood died off by themselves. Something has to happen; something _always_ happens with H.G. Wells, The Doctor, The Oncoming Storm. You just can't remember what.

H.G. can't remember anything.

/

She thinks her name is Emily Lake. She lives with her boyfriend, Nate, and his daughter Adelaide. You have the top floor of their three-flat because she thinks you're her pseudo-sister. (She also thinks you're 26—or at least that's what you told her; you're pretty sure she doesn't actually believe you but she's never said anything.) At least you didn't have to work hard to make her believe you both have a bond. She attached to you very quickly. Things like that let you know that H.G. is still in there, somewhere.

You like Nate as much as you let yourself, which isn't much. Most of the time you can tolerate him. But sometimes Emily looks at him like H.G. used to look at Myka and you have to stop from screaming.

You adore Adelaide. That's probably the worst part of this whole thing. You love Adelaide and she isn't real. You can't imagine how H.G. will deal with the loss of two daughters when you finally go back to the Warehouse.

Emily always drives you both home because she's terrible at sitting still. Most days, you're too busy thinking about work and space to actually have a conversation. Today she keeps looking at you out of the corner of your eye until you finally bite.

"Something on your mind, oh subtle one?" you drawl.

Emily laughs. "Sort of," she admits, "though it'll probably sound silly to you."

"Try me anyway."

"Okay." (There's that word again.) "I've been having these dreams, very strange dreams. Just fragments of things that don't seem to fit together. I'm a time traveler, only I seem to come back to this very large structure that holds dangerous historical relics. There's a man too grumpy for his own good and another who acts more like a child. But I help them save the world sometimes."

"That's it?"

"You're there sometimes, too," she says, and it's not the whole truth. H.G. Wells could charm and weasel the pants off of anyone. Emily Lake can't lie to save her life. "Other people, but I can't always see their faces."

By the way she blushes, you know she dreams of Myka almost every night. You wonder what kind of dreams they are, and then you start blushing yourself.

"Those don't sound so silly," you say carefully.

Emily rests one elbow on her window and leans her head against her fist. "They're just all so _real_, so vivid. I dream of that warehouse and I know in my bones that it's 2012. Sometimes it's even the nineteenth century and that feels just as real, too. It's very disorienting to wake up from one of these dreams. Almost disappointing."

"What, I'm not good enough?" you joke.

Emily smiles. "Considering you're in the dreams as well, I'd say you make the cut."

"What do I do in your dreams?"

"You're a computer hacker. And considerably better at it than your current job, I must say."

"Watch it, lady; I can run this car off the road in three seconds."

"Prove it."

(You never do.)

"Did you know I'm not even human in these dreams? I've got two hearts."

"Well, we can disprove that in a heartbeat with Adelaide's practice stethoscope." You flash a cheeky grin at your pun.

"Yes, I know," she murmurs. "I just wish I could make sense of them. Or at least make them go away."

"They're just dreams, Emily. You're as human as they come."

"Oh, I'm better than merely human, Claudia."

This time she grins at you. You try not to sigh too heavily.

/

Adelaide is waiting for you by the door like she is every day. Emily scoops her up and peppers her face with kisses. She giggles and waves at you over Emily's shoulder.

Sometimes you record videos of them when Emily isn't looking. You've got them all saved on a flash drive and you don't plan on getting rid of them when H.G. eventually changes back. You hope she won't yell at you for it.

Emily sets Adelaide down when she finds Nate in the kitchen. You give him a quick 'hi' and then you're running after your favorite eight-year-old.

"Have a good day, Adds?"

"I found a funny book," she says, settling next to you on the couch. "I think Emily wrote it."

"Emily? But she's a scientist."

"You don't have to be just one thing," Adelaide points out.

You check a smile. "Wanna show me?"

She nods and slides off the couch, her feet clomping loudly as she runs to her room. "Here," she says when she returns, thrusting the book into your lap.

You hesitate only for a moment before opening it. You think this might be Emily's dream journal, and your heart breaks when you're proven right. There are drawings of your past lives on every page—the TARDIS, the Warehouse and more than a few Teslas. Even Pete the ferret makes an appearance.

"I found it next to Emily's side of the bed," Adelaide explains. "I didn't know Emily was such a good drawer. Look." She flips a couple pages back from where you are. Sketches of Myka's face fill almost every inch of the page. "This lady shows up a lot. Sometimes she's happy, but mostly she's really sad."

You close the book before Emily can catch you spying. "I think we should put this away. Emily will show it to you for real if she wants to." You pinch away the pout on Adelaide's cheek. You hand the book to her and send her off to put it back where she found it. To her credit, she only rolls her eyes a little.

"I see she's been snooping again," Nate says from behind you. "Maybe one day she'll be a detective."

"She'll completely eradicate crime if that happens."

Nate laughs. "Do you mind if I sit?" He sits anyway. "Emily is in her study, tinkering," he explains. "Did you guys have a rough day or something?"

"Why?"

"She just seems sad," he shrugs.

"Oh. Well, that's probably because she wants to change the robot design again. You know she gets."

He hums and crosses his ankles on the coffee table. "I don't, really. Every time I think I do, she just…" He trails off and you wait, because you know exactly what he means. You know what it's like to watch H.G. zag. You've been watching it for almost four years.

"Who is she, Claudia?" he continues. "Who are either of you? Where did you come from?" He laughs to himself, his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "This sounds weird, but sometimes I just realize how much I don't know about the people in my life."

"Do people ever _really_ know anything about each other?" you deflect.

"Sometimes I catch Emily walking around at night and she looks so lost, like she's put a very important book down someplace only she can't remember where."

"Well, that's just how she is."

"You're not really her sister."

"Technically I never said we were actually related."

"You never said how you were related at all."

You shrug, hoping to play it off. "Emily got me out of a bad spot and I never really left." You wish that were the truth. It would be easier to live with, when actually your nights are plagued with lovely dreams of the life you used to have. H.G. had showed up right after Sykes, when everything was finally starting to calm down again and you thought you might have a shot at avoiding the end of your world for another couple of years.

"I just wonder sometimes, what this relationship can be if she doesn't tell me the truth. She's never going to, is she?"

_She thinks she already is,_ you want to say.

_She can't tell you what she doesn't know,_ you want to say.

_Let __**me**__ tell you,_ you want to say.

"I'll be in my office," Nate says when you remain silent.

/

Emily isn't fiddling with inventions by the time you find her. She's barely reading, but you let her pretend.

"Addie found your journal," you say as you lean on the doorway.

"You know she hates that nickname," Emily retorts, eyes never straying from her book.

"Good thing she's not around to hear it then."

Emily sighs and looks up at you. "Did you read it?"

"Not really. She just showed me a couple of pages. I think she's read the whole thing."

"Shit."

You can count on one hand the number of times you've heard H.G. curse and mean it. Most of the time it's just adorable British swears and it doesn't really count, but sometimes it does. Everyone at the Warehouse has their own brand of cursing. Artie grumbles so much that he becomes completely unintelligible, but you're pretty sure you've heard some words rolling out of him that sailors would be proud of. Steve tends to swear in times of great adventure, usually when he's about two seconds from getting obliterated by an artifact. (You prefer to call look at those moments as the times when you're about two seconds from _saving him_ from getting obliterated by an artifact, because that's always how it works out. He just doesn't always see it that way.) Pete swears at two things: sports and actual emotions. He's the one to use curse words like your parents and teachers always warned you was wrong. When Pete swears at football or hockey, you laugh it off and steal some of his chips. When Pete swears for real, when he's angry or sad or frustrated, you remember how you used to feel when Joshua got tired of being your big brother but was too proud to ever stop.

(When Myka swears, you run away.

When H.G. swears, you start to worry and you don't stop for a couple of days.

H.G. has a way of slipping under your skin far too easily, like water creeping underneath a door.)

"Listen, don't worry about it. It was just dream doodles, right? It's not like she's going to be mad at you or anything."

By the way Emily frowns at you, you know it's not just doodles. "It started that way," she says. "And then I was thinking about these dreams so much that I decided to try and investigate them. They feel so _real_, Claudia, that I began to think they actually might be. We're scientists living in the future; surely there are ways of extracting information currently hidden in the depths of my mind."

"Okay…"

"I approached it from a scientific point of view," Emily continues. "There had to be a method to my research, and everything I could find suggested that buried memories have strong emotional triggers. I used the dream journal to explore my emotions about my dreams, how I felt about everything and everyone I saw. I thought I might be able to dredge something up. But I never intended for anyone else to read that journal. There are parts of my dreams that I prefer to reality, and there are parts," Emily mutters, blushing, "that I'm afraid Adelaide will misinterpret very badly."

"So, you think these dreams are actually memories," you reason slowly, "and you want to make sure so you can…make them reality again?"

(You hope Emily can't heart how furiously your heart is beating.)

"No," she whispers. "No, I want to make sure so I can find all trace of these memories and erase them. Living in two worlds, Claudia—it's a war, and I am no soldier. These dreams are inventions that have started to sour."

"But—you love inventing," you protest stupidly. "That's what you do for a living. You invent robots. You're an inventor, Emily."

She shrugs, her shoulders flopping sloppily. "Every inventor knows that not every creation is going to work. Some of them must be destroyed."

/

(This is when you swear.

Frak.

Shazbot.

Frak frak frak.

_Fuck._)

/

You persuade Emily to join you for a walk. By the time you're done talking, Nate is reading with Adelaide and you know they won't miss you for a little while.

"Tell me about your dreams," you say after you've both gotten used to the night air. "Tell me about the parts you like better than living with me."

Emily smiles and swats your shoulder. "I like living with you just fine."

"Okay."

"There is an overwhelming sense of adventure," she answers. "Excitement and discovery and…wonder."

"You could find wonder here."

"Yes, well." Emily kicks a couple of rocks and shoves her hands in her pockets. "There is a woman," she admits.

"Ahh, I thought it might be something like that. What's her name?"

"Myka. Though I also seem to call her darling."

"You call everyone darling."

"It's different with her."

Her eyes are stars and they're far away and she's quiet for so long that you can't take it anymore.

She's H.G. Wells, The Doctor, the only person in the universe who has held each star in her heart and cherished it. For hundreds of years she has made it her business to keep the whole of time and space within her reach. Watching her flounder without that connection is unbearable.

You have to tell her.

"Listen, Emily—"

It's the rule of the Warehouse (of the whole universe, you've learned after a few encounters with The Doctor): if you're trying to have a serious conversation, something supernatural is never far enough away.

A glow of green light streaks across the sky. You would love to believe that it's just some beautiful space anomaly, that it's your work life bleeding into home, but your heart sinks and you know that's a lie.

"What was that?" Emily blurts.

"I, uh, I don't know." You check your pockets to make sure that you have the key to the TARDIS (you carry it everywhere, just in case.) There it is—nestled safely in that stupid fake pocket they put in girls' jeans. "Why don't you go check it out and I'll go make sure Nate and Addie are okay? You said you wanted adventure," you add when Emily hesitates.

"Okay," she finally agrees. "I'll meet you back home."

You nod and run off, waiting until you're sure she can't see you before doubling back and taking a left.

You have every intention of going home. It just isn't the home that has Nate and Adelaide in it.

/

You visit the TARDIS every month or so to make sure it's still working okay. H.G. said it would take care of itself, but you like it too much to take her word for it.

The main deck hums when you step inside, just like it always does. You've been sad lately, a little too sad to come back, so it's been a while.

"Hello TARDIS, my old friend," you sing-song. "Haven't broken down, have you?"

The hum keeps humming, so you suppose not.

_That's why I've got to do it,_ she'd said. _They can track me down across the whole of time and space_, she'd said. _I'm going to become human,_ she'd said, and hadn't given you any time to say no.

(She also hadn't given you any time to cover your ears. It sounded like a painful process.)

It's all memories now. In fact, if it weren't for you, this wonderful machine would be a memory forever. But you can't live like that and clearly H.G. can't live like that, so you've got to do something.

(You've watched this recording a hundred times. A hundred and one won't hurt you.)

H.G.'s face fills the screen as you press play. For all the turmoil you've felt tonight, it's nice to remember that memories can be comforts as well.

"_Hello, darling_," H.G. smiles. _"We haven't much time, but before I change—I've compiled a list of instructions for when I'm human. One: don't let me hurt anyone. We can't have that, but you know what humans are like. Two: don't worry about the TARDIS. I'll put it on emergency power so they can't detect it. Just let it hide away. Four—no, pardon my error—three: do try and stay away from large historical events. Four: you."_ She takes the time to look at the camera and it doesn't feel like a list of instructions anymore. It feels like she's there again. _"Don't let me abandon you. And fi—"_

You fast-forward, hoping you'll find some hidden message that wasn't there the last time you watched it. But there isn't, so you settle on watching the end. H.G. always has had a way with endings.

"_And twenty three: if anything goes wrong, if they find us, Claudia, then you know what to do. Open the watch. Everything I am is kept safe in there. Now, I've put a perception filter on it so the human-me won't think anything of it. To her, it is merely a watch. But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you, darling. Your choice. You are my greatest asset. Oh, and thank you."_

You take a moment to have some feelings—it's something you haven't let yourself do recently, even though you've been having all of them—and then you get up.

"Okay." You clap your hands together. "I have a problem to solve and a few different ways to solve it. So the question is, am I Pete or am I Myka?" You run a hand through your hair and rub nervously at your wrists. "Pete is a man of action. Usually misguided action, but still, action. Pete would grab the watch and shove it in H.G.'s face and maybe worry about it later. Myka," you muse as you pace, "is a thinker. She would worry about all the problems that come after the watch. She would wait to open it until she was sure it was the right time and that nothing would go wrong. Myka would come up with a million alternatives just in case something _did_ go wrong."

You think about Emily investigating the flash of light, about the TARDIS hidden where no one but you will remember it, about your family possibly still working in a facility that you're not supposed to know about in this timeline.

You grab your key and run.

Steve can be Myka when you get home. You've always been Pete.

/

"Emily? Adelaide?" The house is lit up when you run in, but it is too silent. "Nate?" you try, grimacing.

Still nobody answers.

You might not be the best field agent yet, but years of working for the Warehouse have taught you that if there is silence where there should be sound, there is also a problem. You wish you had a Tesla for backup, but you make do by looping through the kitchen and grabbing a rolling pin.

You sneak up the stairs as quietly as you can, keeping an eye for any trouble or even any sign of life. Emily must still be investigating the flash of light. You finally start to worry about what she might find.

The second floor is just as quiet as the first, so you creep into Emily and Nate's bedroom. When H.G. had changed, you intended on keeping the watch in your possession. But she'd been confused and out of touch and when it fell out of your pocket, she picked it up and wouldn't let you take it away. You know she keeps it in the middle drawer of her nightstand.

It isn't there tonight.

"_Shit_," you hiss, stamping your foot. A moment later, you hear something thump in the closet. You straighten up and grasp the rolling pin a little tighter. "Hello?"

It's quiet for a moment and then—"Claudia?"

"Adelaide?"

"Is Dad gone?" she whimpers.

You drop the rolling pin on the bed and open the closet door. Adelaide rushes into your arms immediately. "Hey, whoa, dude. What's got you all freaked?"

"I think I did something bad to my dad."

You wipe her eyes and give her a comforting smile. "I'm sure you didn't, Adds. What happened?"

She hiccups and squeezes your hand. "Dad told me to get ready for bed and I remembered that I didn't put Emily's book back so I came in here. And there was a watch on the little table and it was pretty so I opened it, and I saw all these pictures flash really fast. A little while later I heard my dad arguing with someone downstairs and then they both came up here and started asking me questions. They kept asking me where the doctor was and I didn't understand why—"

"Where did they go, Adelaide? This is really important."

"I don't know," she cries. "I backed up to the window and suddenly they stopped and left the room."

"They left—?" You suck in a breath at a sudden thought. "Adds, did you have the watch? When they backed you into the window, did you have the watch?"

"Yeah," she answers, looking at her hands, and then at the floor under the window. "I guess, I guess it fell."

Both of you lean out of the window and look at the ground—there is a barely distinguishable shine to the bushes that isn't normally there. You kiss Adelaide on her forehead and give her a big smile. "Listen, you did so, so well, okay? We just need to get that watch and wait for Emily to get back."

Adelaide wipes her eyes one more time and takes your hand. "Does she know the Doctor?"

You ruffle her hair and laugh. "Yeah, something like that."

You keep a sharp ear out for any noises outside. You can't hear anything but the rustling of the wind. On the one hand, it means you're safe from whatever happened to Nate. On the other hand, it means Emily still hasn't come back. You don't know what to do without her, which is alright, because she wouldn't know what to do if she were here anyway.

You sit Adelaide down on the couch. "I'm going to go and get that watch really quick, and you just sit here, okay? Count to sixty and if I'm not back by the time you're done, that just means I owe you a big batch of cookies."

Adelaide giggles. "Your cookies are terrible."

"Hey." You pout and she giggles some more. "I'll make Emily make them."

Adelaide finally nods and you sneak out the door. The night is still quiet and windy; your pants swish against the grass as you jog toward the back of the house. The watch is resting on a branch right in the middle of the bush. You strain on your tiptoes and fumble around sharp twigs before finally grabbing it.

Something touches you on your shoulder right in the middle of your self-congratulations, and you instinctively—or at least as instinctive as Myka taught you to be—disable them with a few well-placed jabs and kicks.

Only in the middle of a second bout of self-congratulation do you realize it's Emily rolling in agony on the ground.

You drop to your knees and help her up. "Oh, dude—oh man, I am _so_ sorry. Frak, I always do this. Are you okay? Did I get you bad?"

"I'm fine," Emily ekes out, her words tight and forced. "I think you knocked all the wind out of me for the next week."

"Oh man, Em—"

She waves you off and exhales a long breath. "It's okay. Let's just get inside, hm?"

"Sure."

It's a little slow-going but by the time you make it to the door, Emily is mostly recovered. She walks into the house with almost all of her usual charm and leaves you to follow her, smiling.

"…fifty two, fifty three," Adelaide counts from the living room. She groans when you and Emily walk in. "So close!"

"So close to what?" Emily asks.

"Cookies," you answer. "Adds, I'll make you some anyway." You turn back to Emily. "Listen, there's something I have to explain to you."

She looks around the room and cranes her neck toward the second floor. "Where's Nate?"

"That's part of the thing I have to explain." She goes to join Adelaide on the couch, but you stop her. "No, don't sit. You'll be up and pacing soon anyway."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"I might not."

"You will. You're a pacer when you get stressed, and I'm about to tell you something stressful."

"Then I don't want to hear it."

"You need to hear it. Lives depend on it and all that crap."

"Am I going to like it?"

"Probably not."

"Am I going to believe it?"

"I hope so."

"You're not really pleading your case very well, darling."

"Look," you huff, "I'd really like to be able to tell you what you want to hear but we're really in a crunch situation right now. So please, as amusing as your banter is, stop talking."

Emily gives you a long-weary look and sighs. "Okay."

"Okay." You take a deep breath and set your shoulders. "You were right about your dreams. They're not dreams, they're memories. You're not Emily Lake, you're The Doctor and we've been hiding out in the future because the Family of Blood is after you and they want to Dementor-kiss the life out of you, so you changed yourself into a human and now I need you to change back."

"Dementor-kiss…?"

"Right, okay, no pop culture references from forty three years ago—_god_, that's weird to say."

"Claudia, you're not making any sense."

"Okay, listen, H.G."—you don't correct yourself because you're way past that point now—"you're not Emily Lake. You're a time-traveling alien called The Doctor and you're very good at making enemies even though you're mostly nice, and you turned yourself into a human to escape some of those enemies. Those things you drew in your journal—those are real, H.G. They're your life. And you need to get back to it or else all of us are going to die. Probably the whole planet, too." You pull the watch out of your pocket and shake it in front of her face. "This watch—you hid your real identity in this watch so The Family couldn't find you. I need you to open it and be The Doctor again."

"Claudia—"

"Damn it, H.G.! Just listen to me, would you? Adelaide found the watch and opened it; she knows what's inside. She knows I'm telling the truth. If you don't believe me, believe her."

"Adelaide?" Emily looks at her with frightened eyes. "Is this true?"

Adelaide turns to you instead of answering. "She's The Doctor? Dad was looking for Emily the whole time?"

"Yes. And I know it's a lot to think about, but please—"

Adelaide looks between you and Emily and bolts out the door.

"Adelaide!" You rush after her only to be pushed back into the house by Nate and another man. Their eyes look wild and you know The Family has found you.

Nate has a gun pressed to Adelaide's temple, something that looks like a Tesla only a lot more lethal.

"Nate, what on earth are you doing?" Emily blurts, striding toward him. You press an arm to her chest and hold her back.

"Son of Mine," the other man says, "look what we've found. The Doctor, hiding in human form."

"Of course I'm human; I was born in Connecticut and now I live here with you, Nate; I'm just as human as you! Please, let Adelaide go."

"Ooh, and a human brain, too," Nate laments. "Simple, thick and dull."

"She's no good like this," the other man says.

"We need a Time Lord." Nate presses the gun harder onto Adelaide's forehead. "Change back," he threatens.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emily cries. "Please, put her down—"

"Change back!"

"I literally do not know—"

Nate gestures to the other man who whips a gun out of his pocket and grabs you before you have a chance to defend yourself.

"Hey!" You struggle against his grip but he's too strong.

"Nate!" Emily yells.

"She's your friend, isn't she?" he taunts. "Doesn't this scare you enough to change back?"

"I don't know what you mean!" Emily yells.

"I'm getting tired of this, Son of Mine," the man holding you sighs. "Make her change."

Nate leers and rests his finger on the trigger of his gun. "Father of Mine, this will make her change. Have you enjoyed it, Doctor—being human? Has it taught you wonderful things? Are you better, richer, wiser? Then let's see you answer this: which one of them do you want us to kill? Woman or child, your sister or your daughter?"

"Nate, please, she's _your_ daughter—"

"Your choice."


	2. Helena

**A/N: I tried my very hardest to get this up last night, but here we are instead. Hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it.**

* * *

**.**

_"But wait for me,_  
_Keep for me your sweetness_  
_I will give you too_  
_A rose."_  
**-Pablo Neruda, "Absence"**

**.**

"Make your decision, Emily Lake."

"Perhaps if that human heart breaks, the Time Lord will emerge."

A light shines next to Claudia, though it quickly disappears.

Nate turns his head toward the other man. "Father of Mine, your hostage is The Doctor!"

"Impossible, Son of Mine! You heard them talking; _that_ one is The Doctor!" He points to you and you freeze, hoping that's all he does.

They continue bickering, neither one letting go of either Claudia or Adelaide. You glance desperately between them, wishing you knew what to do. It sounds like this Doctor of Claudia's would. You don't know who she is, but you wish she could solve everything, too.

Their arguing gets louder and you shut your eyes because you've never done well with confrontation. You feel helpless, hopeless, so very afraid and alone. If you close your eyes, you can pretend you're back at work, surrounded by stars and possibility. They may be far away, but they make more sense than anything happening right now.

There are shouts and thumps and you instinctively back away until you feel someone's hand on your wrist, holding you in place. You open your eyes to find Claudia protecting you, her gun pointed straight at Nate.

"Claudia…"

She shushes you and tightens her grip on the gun. "Give me a reason and I swear I'll shoot."

"So full of fire," Nate mocks.

Claudia shoots at the ceiling and you flinch. "Shut up!"

"Careful, Son of Mine," the second man warns. "This is all for you so that you can live forever."

Nate shoves Adelaide over to his partner and points his gun at Claudia. "Shoot you down," he drawls.

"Try it. We'll die together."

"Would you really pull the trigger? Look too scared."

"Okay, genius. I'm terrified and I'm pointing a gun at you. Wanna take the risk?"

Nate smirks before lowering his gun. Claudia follows suit and taps you on your wrist. "H.G., grab Adelaide and get out of here."

"But—"

"I'll be fine, I promise. I'm from your world full of adventure, remember?" Claudia's fingers find your palm and give them a squeeze. "You lost a daughter once," she murmurs, so low you can barely hear it. "Let me help you save this one."

"Claudia—"

"I'll throw you out the door, H.G., I swear I will."

"Emily, I want to leave," Adelaide interjects in a shaky voice.

You sigh and give her what you hope is a reassuring smile. "Okay. Okay, it's going to be fine, darling. We'll leave."

You emerge from behind Claudia, giving her a grateful shoulder squeeze as you go, and pick Adelaide up.

"What's going to happen to Claudia?" Adelaide asks as you run out of the house.

"She'll be fine, darling."

"How do you know?"

"She always finds me."

/

Life is made of terribly difficult decisions. To love someone, to leave someone, to grow, to risk. Life is made of these things because these things change you. Life is made of terrible decisions and until now, running away from the girl you want to save, you can't remember having made a single one.

"Emily, where are we going?"

You check behind you to make sure you haven't been followed; finding an empty expanse of grass, you put Adelaide down and squat down to her eye level.

"I'm not sure, darling. Do you know where we can go where Claudia would find us but those men wouldn't?"

(You have to call them _those men_ now. The other one, you barely knew him—just a friendly face in town—but that is not your Nate anymore. You don't think you'll ever see your Nate again. You hope Adelaide hasn't come to the same conclusion yet.)

"I watched her once when I couldn't sleep. She takes walks at night sometimes."

"Where does she go?"

"This way." Adelaide points in front of you and to the right.

You stand back up and reach for Adelaide's hand. "Let's go this way, then."

She gives you a smile—a small one, but a smile nonetheless—as you walk. "Emily, what's wrong with Daddy?" she finally asks.

You sigh and swipe a thumb against the back of your hand. "I don't know, darling."

"Is he going to get better?"

People have coddled and lied to children to appease their feelings for centuries. You are not one of them.

"I don't think so."

You come to a fork in your path. Unsure of which way Claudia turns, and hoping that she'll eventually think to look for you here, you sit down next to a rock and pat the ground for Adelaide to join you.

She plucks a blade of grass from the ground and drags it over your arm. You giggle at the feather-light sensation.

"Sorry I read your journal," she says.

"Oh, Adelaide, don't worry about that now. It's okay."

"I didn't understand most of it."

"Neither do I," you admit with a smile. "But they're just dreams."

"I don't have dreams like that. Not ones that are so…"

"Adventurous? Fantastic? Daring?" you tease, hoping to lift her spirits.

She shakes her head. "Sad," she finishes. "How come your dreams are so sad?"

You don't have an answer. "They're just dreams, Adelaide," you say instead.

She kicks her feet together and leans back on her hands. "One time, my friend Natalie told me that dreams are just really us remembering our past lives. That was kind of what Claudia was saying tonight, right?"

"Sort of," you concede, "though I think her idea was a little more complex than that. But it doesn't matter," you find yourself repeating once more. If you repeat it enough, maybe it will become truth. "There is more than enough of my current life to keep me occupied."

"What did you do before you came here?"

"I went to school in America."

"Where?"

"Caltech."

"Was it nice?"

"It had a wonderful engineering program."

"Yeah, but did you like it?"

"Of course; I received quite a thorough education."

"How did you meet Claudia?"

"She was one of my classmates."

"She's a lot younger than you, though."

"Well, I must have gone back to school to get my degree."

"Oh, what did you do before that?"

You adore the girl sitting next to you, but you have run out of the patience necessary to indulge her onslaught of inquiries. "Why all the questions, hm? Why the sudden curiosity in my life?"

Adelaide flicks a dandelion, hesitating. "I don't think Natalie was talking about your dreams when she mentioned past lives. How can your dreams be past lives when you can't even remember your past?"

You huff at the accusation. "I can remember my past just fine, thank you—"

You're robbed any further chance to defend yourself as Claudia comes running up the path.

She skids to a halt in front of your rock, panting and resting her hands on her knees. "How—did you guys—find this place?" she gasps.

"Adelaide watched you walking one night."

"More than one night," Adelaide corrects.

"Kid, you're gonna run a country one day," Claudia smiles. "Jeez, you've got tabs on everyone." She straightens up and points to her left. "There's a clearing past these trees, out of sight of the main path. Let's go have a chat."

You let Claudia and Adelaide lead the way. You have a feeling this isn't going to be a pleasant chat.

/

"Doc," she starts.

"My name is Emily Lake," you interrupt.

Claudia thinks this over. "Okay, well, you also have a doctorate so technically the name sticks." She leans back and appraises you thoughtfully. "A doctor in both worlds—I never really thought about that."

"There is only one world, Claudia, and we are in it right now."

"That's not true," she murmurs gently.

"How did you get away? And are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she smiles. "Had to punch Nate and his crony a few times, but I got away without a scratch."

"And the guns?"

Claudia's smile falters just a little. "Buried 'em."

"You're lying," Adelaide accuses.

"Jeez, is Jinksy hiding behind that tree? I thought he was the only one with those annoying powers," Claudia mutters. She stands up and puts her hands on her hips. "They're combing the town looking for you. I had to leave the gun."

By the way she looks at you, you don't want to think about what Nate might do to anyone who crosses his path.

"But we can't think about that, Doc," Claudia continues. "We've got a bigger issue."

"I'm not who you want me to be, Claudia. My name is Emily Lake. I was born in Beacon Falls, Connecticut, a town with six thousand residents located in the southwestern corner of the state..."

"That sounds like an encyclopedia entry, H.G."

"It's who I am."

"It isn't. C'mon, please just open the watch." She holds it out to you.

You study it, replaying the conversations you've had over the last few hours.

Of everything that's been said, one detail sticks out more than the rest.

"Claudia, I've never had a daughter much less lost one."

"Can I see that watch again?" Adelaide asks.

"Sure, just don't open it again, okay?" Claudia hands it over and unravels a chain from her neck, offering it to you. It is a small golden locket, and when you touch it you feel unbearably sad. "This is who you are, H.G," she says softly. "You're The Doctor. You had a daughter, Christina, and you showed her all the best parts of the universe. And when she was killed, you hid in London in the 1890s. You called yourself H.G. Wells and wrote a lot of really awesome fantasy novels. You wrote about all the stars and planets you'd seen, you found Warehouse 12, and you waited out your grief. That's who you are."

You open the locket (against your better judgment) and study the picture inside. There is no grand, sweeping rush of recognition at the girl's face; apart from more than a passing resemblance to Adelaide, you find nothing remarkable about her. But words and places come swarming unbidden into your mind—_Charles, Paris, Sophie, murder_—and, oh, you ache.

"You recognize her, don't you?" Claudia murmurs.

You shake off your feelings and hand the locket back. "I've never seen this girl before in my life."

"Jeez, H.G., you're breaking my heart," Claudia whines.

"I'm sorry, Claudia. I wish I could help more."

"Well, if you'd just listen to me, you could." She pats her down her pockets before finally pulling out what you presume to be an odd-looking pen. She holds it out to you. This time, you refuse to take it.

"If this is another attempt to jog my memory—"

"Just touch it, okay; humor me for a second—"

"I have no idea what this thing is, Claudia—"

Claudia growls and stamps her foot. "God, yes you do! You're a total gadget junkie and this is your favorite one, okay? Just take it and tell me what it is. I know you know it."

She shakes it once more before you finally reach for it. It seems to buzz in your hand, like it wants you to do something. This device knows you, but you don't know it.

"I'm sorry," you say, handing it back. "I don't know it."

"You do; you really do, H.G."

"Please stop calling me that."

Claudia drops the gadget on the ground and grasps your shoulders. "Listen to me. _Really_, really listen to me. Your name is The Doctor. You were born on the planet Gallifrey and you're hundreds of years old. In the 1890s you assumed the name H.G. Wells and it's stuck ever since. You can travel through time and sometimes you work as a consultant for Warehouse 13, a top secret facility that houses dangerous artifacts, for which one day I will probably be the Caretaker. When you show up, it means something bad's about to happen, but it also means you're going to help us. You help people, H.G. You _save_ people. Please be you again and save this town. Save me and Adelaide, because no one else can."

You have studied space for a very long time. You know that a black hole is what remains when a star dies, a spacetime event that absorbs everything until it creates gravitational singularity at its center—infinite density in an infinitely small volume. You just never knew that its center could reside within you.

Claudia's words get sucked into you at alarming speeds; they are absorbed into your stomach, your lungs, your ribs, until you have the strangest sensation of being a bomb perpetually hovering on the brink of detonation.

Claudia keeps talking and you keep waiting and waiting for an explosion you fear will never come.

"Please, H.G.," Claudia begs. "I need to save this town and I can't do that without The Doctor."

You clear your throat and step away from her grip. "I'm sure this Doctor of yours is a lovely person, Claudia. Unfortunately, I am not her."

"You are though," Claudia insists. "You're not Emily Lake; you're The Doctor—"

"I am Emily Lake," you protest. "I have a family and memories—"

"You have imitations of memories, a mix of fact and delusions—"

"I was born in Connecticut; I have a sister in New York—"

"Emily Lake isn't real!"

"I am real! I'm standing right in front of you!"

"Emily Lake is another one of your inventions, Doc!" Claudia yells. "You were running from The Family, you used the Chameleon Arch, and you created this version of yourself. You think you're a person but you're not, and I'm sorry to put it so bluntly. I don't know what happened when you changed, if this is another universe entirely or just the future, but this isn't real. You're not a space engineer, Adelaide isn't your daughter, and you don't live in the Netherlands because you're _not_ Emily Lake." Claudia takes a step back, sets her jaw, and sighs. Something heavy settles into her eyes. "Adds, I need that watch."

She holds out her hand expectantly, but Adelaide clutches it closer to her chest. "If I give you this watch, is Emily going to go away?"

"No," you answer, at the same time that Claudia says, "Yes."

"H.G., you can't lie to her," Claudia admonishes.

"I'm not lying," you reply. "I'm not lying because I'm not taking that watch."

"You can't take her from me," Adelaide frowns. "I haven't had a mom for a really long time."

"Well, neither have I," Claudia huffs, "but that's not the point."

"Yes, it is. You don't think of her like your sister. She's like your mom."

Claudia glances between you and Adelaide very quickly, almost as if she's been caught doing something she shouldn't. "Well, yeah," she finally stutters, "but—I mean, H.G.'s my family. I hate to pull rank on you, kid, but she was my family first. I'm not trying to steal her from _you_, I just want to save the freakin' planet."

"What did you see in that watch, Adelaide?" you ask quietly. "What is The Doctor like?"

"Fire," she says. "Fire and ice and anger. She blows up suns and planets and fights wars all over space. She sees everything and she knows everything and sometimes she saves everything, and I don't want you to be her."

"Why not?"

"Because she's wonderful and you'll have to go away."

You turn toward Claudia, unable to look at the sadness in Adelaide's eyes. "All I have to do is open this watch, and I'll change back?"

"Yes," she answers, her shoulders sagging in relief. "That's it, and we can end all of this so quickly."

"You've had that watch with you ever since we moved here."

"Yes," Claudia squirms.

"You knew this entire time what it was—what it could do—and you just let me…go about my life? You let me find a wonderful job, find a life and a purpose—and now you want me to give it up like it's nothing."

"H.G.," Claudia says, her eyes shimmering with tears, "I promise you have a better life, a _real_ life with a purpose and everything—"

"But you let me believe in this one."

"You—The Doctor gave me a list of things to watch out for while we were hiding and this wasn't one of them. I did the best I could, H.G."

"Having a family didn't occur to your Doctor? Finding happiness, finding a place she belonged—that wasn't a possibility? What kind of person is that?"

"A lonely one," Claudia admits, scuffing her feet against the ground.

"And that's who you want me to become."

"That's who you _are_," Claudia insists. "Please, just hold it. I know that if you just touch it, you'll understand."

"I don't want to understand. I'm quite happy in the dark."

"But you're not, H.G. You're so incomplete, you—" Claudia throws her hands in the air, poised as claws squeezing some invisible object. "Okay. Clearly explanations aren't working. Adds, I'm sorry to have to do this, but I need that watch." She advances toward Adelaide, clearly ready to wrestle the watch from her grasp.

"No!" Adelaide shouts, retreating.

"For god's sake, Claudia, stop being so childish."

You try to separate them and for one second, one brief, significant moment, all of your hands are touching the watch.

You see a flash of light and then the whole world changes.

/

_You are not Emily Lake. You are not The Doctor or even H.G. Wells._

_Your name is Helena. You work at the European Space Research and Technology Center in the Netherlands. You build robots that explore planets and make wonder tangible to the citizens of the world._

"_Adelaide! Claudia! Come quickly, they're about to announce the verdict on funding!"_

"_Only really boring people care about that stuff."_

"_Shut up, squirt. This is what decides if you eat for the next three months."_

"_Claudia, be nice."_

"_I'm always nice."_

"_Be __**nicer**__."_

_Your name is Helena. The year is 2045 and you build robots._

_You have a family._

/

There is silence for a moment from all three of you, and then—very slowly, very carefully—Adelaide hands the watch to Claudia. She takes it and attempts to hand it to you.

"Please," you implore. "Please, don't."

"Okay," she concedes, pocketing it. "Can I show you something else, then?"

"Is it another ploy to convince me?"

Claudia smiles. "The last one, I hope." She zips the pocket that holds the watch. "I won't even try and give it to you, I promise."

"Okay."

She leads you out of the clearing and down the path, presumably toward wherever she walks late at night. After ten minutes or so, she guides you into another patch of trees and stops.

"I'm going to show you both something, but we can't get too close to it. Nate is guarding it and I don't want him to see us."

You perch behind a large boulder and Claudia directs your attention to the left, pointing with her finger.

You gasp at the sight, and you are not the only one.

"The TARDIS," Adelaide breathes.

You look sharply down at her. "How did you know that?"

"You drew it in your journal," she explains.

"Jeez, you really read the whole thing?" Claudia blurts. You silence her with a glare. "You recognize it, don't you, Doc?" she asks hopefully.

"I've never seen it before in my life," you answer.

It isn't a lie. It also isn't what she asked.

Suddenly, Nate jerks his head in your direction and sniffs the air. "I can smell you, Doctor! I know you're out there. Soon Father of Mine will be here and we will no longer have to hunt. Would you like to join us for a feast?"

Claudia ducks back down and pulls you and Adelaide with her. She digs the watch out of her pocket and puts it in yours. "Listen, the thing that crashed here a couple of hours ago was their spaceship. You remember where it is?"

You nod and point your thumb behind you. "About five minutes that way. Why?"

"That blue box," Claudia says, cocking her head, "is _your_ spaceship. And they're going to try and destroy it to get at you. They never will; it's too well-protected. But that doesn't mean we can't have a crack at theirs."

"But—"

"I'm giving you ten minutes, H.G. Ten minutes to find their ship and destroy it."

"But I don't know how."

She pats your pocket. "The Doctor does." She gives you a sad smile and gestures for you to stand up. "Adelaide and I will hold off Grumpy Pants over here and find you. Okay?"

You stand up, dusting off your pants. It is not Claudia's smile but Adelaide's frown that finally cements your decision.

"Okay."

Claudia points at you as you walk away. "Ten minutes!"

You give her a mock salute. "Ten minutes," you affirm.

You're going to need all of them.

/

You find the ship in three minutes, running as fast as you were. It is dark and cold, its abandoned buttons and equipment wilting in neglect. The watch in your pocket seems to buzz as you go further and further into the structure.

You sigh and fiddle with your fingers. You have two options: you can stand here for the next seven minutes and do nothing. You can wait for Claudia and Adelaide to get here and bring destruction for all of you.

Or you can reach into your pocket and destroy yourself.

Life is made of terribly difficult decisions.

/

(The flash of light is darker this time. Your visions aren't as happy. They aren't whole and they're filled with failure. People die and buildings burn and you lose more often than you'd like.

But every so often, there is a blip—of curly hair, of a woman's smile, of a quaint little inn with the most fractured residents you've ever seen. They've rebuilt themselves miraculously, more than once, and when you see them, you want to rebuild, too. It feels like they need you as much as you need them.

The year is 2042. You are standing inside a spaceship.

You have a choice to make.)

/

Nate and his friend come bursting in a few minutes later, holding Claudia and Adelaide hostage once again.

"There you are, Doctor," he leers. "I knew we'd find you."

"Nate," you whimper. "Let them go."

Nate fires his gun perilously close to your left side; you jump to the right and land against a wall of controls.

"Such a pitiful Doctor. We thought you were better—braver, smarter, faster."

"Let them go."

"Say please."

"_Please_ let them go." He twists his head and looks at you, eyes impossibly wide. He sniffs the air. "Still human," he drawls.

"Oh, dude, H.G.—"

"Nate, please…"

He advances toward you and you back against the wall, pressing against more controls as you go.

"I can't pretend to understand this," you say, holding your hands out in front of you, "but I am innocent. The Doctor made me this way; _she _did this to me. I played no part in it."

Nate scoffs. "Look, Father of Mine. She didn't just turn herself into a human. She turned herself into an idiot."

"Isn't that the same thing?" the other man says.

"I don't care about this Doctor," you say. "I don't care about your family. I just want you to go and leave us in peace." You sniff and run a hand through your hair in an attempt to compose yourself. "Here. I've made my choice."

Nate reaches for the watch in your outstretched hand. "Finally," he breathes. Suddenly, he shoves Adelaide to the side and pulls you to him by your collar. "Don't think that saved your life," he growls, his breath hot on your face.

"H.G., what are you doing?!" Claudia yells.

Nate smiles, greedy and triumphant, and throws you against the wall. You fall against more buttons and switches. "Father of Mine, now we shall have the lives of a Time Lord!" He throws open the watch and they both inhale deeply. Nate drops it with a yell. "It's empty!"

"Why, where's it gone?" you ask.

"You tell me!" he says as he throws it at you.

You catch it without even blinking.

His face falls when you smirk. "Oh, I think the explanation might be you've been fooled by a simple olfactory misdirection. Little bit like ventriloquism of the nose. It's an elementary trick in certain parts of the galaxy. But it has got to be said, I don't like the looks of that hydroconometer." You toss the watch up and down as you slowly walk past them, making your way toward Claudia and Adelaide. "It seems to be indicating you've got energy feedback all the way through the retrostabilizers feeding back into the primary heat converters. Ohh," you lament, "because if there's one thing you shouldn't have done, you shouldn't have let me press all those buttons. But, in fairness, I will give you one word of advice. Run."

You grab Claudia and Adelaide and sprint out of the ship as fast as you can. The Family is right on your heels.

The ship blows up.

You make it.

(They don't.)

/

The town is in shambles when you walk back. People are dead. Buildings are destroyed. Around the corner, a baby cries. You hear her mother's soothing words a moment later.

Adelaide looks up at you like you should fix everything, but you know you can't. Humanity is built on learning and rebirth. All you can do is repair, and this place needs so much more than that right now.

All you can do is take Adelaide home and hope that she'll be alright.

The house is still standing—there is a hole in the left side where Claudia fired her gun, but otherwise it is intact. You stop in front of it for a long moment, holding Adelaide's hand with your left and Claudia's with your right.

"H.G.?" Claudia prompts cautiously.

You shake yourself out of your daze and turn to look at her. "Yes, darling," you smile.

Claudia practically faints with relief. "Oh, thank god. You're British again."

You chuckle and squeeze her hand. "That I am."

"Does that mean Emily's gone?" Adelaide pipes up.

You kneel down to meet her eyes and grin, fixing her collar. "No, darling. Emily is still around, somewhere in here." You squash a finger against the side of your head. Adelaide doesn't smile like you'd hoped she would.

"Can you change back?" she whispers.

Your smile falters. "Yes."

"Will you?"

You heave a sigh and kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry, Adelaide. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Claudia was right. I have another life."

"Well, yeah, but she can be in it," Claudia interrupts.

"Sorry?"

Claudia rolls her eyes. "C'mon, H.G. Who's more perfect for a traveling buddy than this kid right here?"

"Where do you travel?" Adelaide asks.

"Oh man, _everywhere_," Claudia gushes. "Everywhen, for that matter—"

"Claudia—"

"Aw, don't start following the rules now, Doc; you're so bad at it."

"Claudia—"

"Just take her to a couple galaxies, a little bit of the future, a lot a bit of the past, and boom—you're back before you left."

"Claudia!" you snap. She stops talking immediately and you expel a line of air through your nose. "I appreciate what you're trying to do," you say, your words too controlled, too steady. "But I only have so much willpower. Please, do not tempt me or I will not be able to resist."

"Why can't I come with you?" Adelaide asks.

You give her a watery smile. "I have been far too rash in selecting traveling companions in the past." You sniff and push back a piece of her hair. "You are too special to waste your time on a sad old lady. Besides, you have relatives back in America. And"—you point your sonic screwdriver at her, scanning—"you have an aunt vacationing in Germany. I'll give her a call tonight and she can come collect you tomorrow." You smile again and wait until she smiles back. "You have a family waiting for you, Adelaide. We would have great adventures, you and I. But it isn't the right time."

"Will you ever be back?"

"Well, you can't get rid of me that easily. Come along." You straighten up and take her hand, leading her into the house. "The night is young and you are tired. Let me tell you stories until you fall asleep."

/

You leave the next morning while Adelaide's aunt is in the bathroom. Adelaide said she wouldn't understand a time machine. But you open the doors to the TARDIS and wave at your little girl (because she was, for one brief moment) as you fly away. You watch her until you can't see her anymore, until you can't see the planet for the stars.

The TARDIS seems lonelier when you finally close the doors. Claudia, usually so excited by the technology of the interior, simply sits in an old chair and spins.

"Claudia…" you prompt.

She sits and spins, bumping into railings and kiosks. "Does this thing have cruise control?"

You frown and furrow your brows. "Yes, I suppose."

"Sweet." She gets up and, without any preamble or explanation, buries herself in your arms. You have been hugged by many people, but you have never been hugged like this.

You dip your chin against her shoulder and keep murmuring your gratitude until you're sure she feels it.

(The TARDIS lands long before either of you let go.)

/

"Hey, wait a minute."

You pause at the doorway, turning back to look at Claudia.

"I'm sorry you had to leave Adelaide behind," she says. "And I'm sorry I said you were lonely."

"You shouldn't apologize for telling the truth, darling," you tease.

Claudia just shakes her head. "No, I should. Because you're not lonely. Or, well, you don't have to be, is what I'm saying." She runs a hand through her hair and absently jiggles the bracelets at her wrists. "I know you don't like staying in one place for too long. But I think—I think it'd be really great if you stuck around for a while."

You aren't normally one to blush, but you can't seem to help it. "I think you're absolutely right."

"I mean, a long-long while."

"I know."

"Years-while."

"Yes, I agree."

"With Myka."

"Of course."

"I mean, telling her you love her, being all gross and cuddly with her-with her."

"So I'd deduced."

"Sharing a bed with her-with her."

"Claudia…"

She finally cracks a smile. "Just making sure." She opens the doors and walks out, sticking her head back in a moment later. "C'mon, slowpoke."

You laugh and give her a shove, parking the TARDIS with an over-the-shoulder snap of your fingers as you go. It's a long way to Artie's office from here; you always park in the Ancient Archives. It's an easy, silly bit of humor, but it makes you laugh all the same.

Nine centuries of parking in the Warehouse and it never gets old.

(You always did like a good pun.)

You stumble upon Leena first, who's running inventory in the Schrödinger aisle. It's moodier than most other aisles—one week it's too active, another week it's too silent. Sometimes it seems to be both. You've noticed that Arthur sends Pete down here more often than others. Pete does not deal well with paradoxes.

"Helena! What are you doing here?"

You put your hands in your pockets and twist around, trying to pass as nonchalant. "Oh, you know, missed the old gang, thought I'd pop in."

Leena smiles, spotting a lie as quickly as Steven would. She rests her gaze on Claudia, her face dropping with every second. "You've been gone a long time," she finally says.

"What, me? No. Pfft. No way. H.G. and I left at 3:52 and it is now"—she checks her watch with an exaggerated sweep of her arm—"hey! It's 3:47. Look at that. I've actually been gone negative minutes. That means there's another me somewhere in the Warehouse right now, so we should definitely stay away from—what was that aisle, H.G.?"

"Ebbinghaus," you reply, smirking.

"Ebbinghaus," Claudia repeats, snapping her fingers. "Right, that's the one. We've been gone so lo—_not_ long. We've been gone so not long. It must have slipped my mind. Silly Claudia."

"Ebbinghaus?" Leena's eyes widen in recognition. You smile to yourself. Someone had to know about the watch; of course it was going to be her. You might have been able to hide the watch from the database, but you could not hide its energy from the woman who can read auras. "Are you alright?" she asks softly.

Both you and Claudia hesitate, glancing at each other. You feel like children conspiring against their mother.

"We're fine," you eventually say. "A little weary but…fine."

Leena smiles and packs up her clipboard, walking back to the office. "Are you staying, Helena?"

"Yes."

"I meant—"

"And again, yes."

She smiles and stops at an intersection. "Good. Myka's a couple aisles over," she says, pointing with her thumb. "I'll tell her to meet you in the office."

"Thank you."

"Hey, H.G.? Can I ask you one more thing?" Claudia says once Leena is out of earshot.

"Of course."

"You know when I'm gonna die, right?"

You laugh in spite of yourself. "That's a little morbid, darling."

"No, I don't mean—I just mean, you can find out, right? You're The Doctor. You've got space tech. You can figure out pretty much when anybody's going to die."

"Yes," you nod.

This seems to settle Claudia. "Okay. Well, you know I love traveling with you. And you know I think you're the coolest person pretty much ever. But sometimes it's really, really exhausting being your companion. I love that you're gonna stay here for a while, but I know that eventually you'll be all rested and you'll have to go. And I just…I don't want to see you after you do. Not like that," she explains hastily, noticing the crestfallen look on your face. "It's like with you and Adelaide, right? You wanted to take her with. I know you did. But you couldn't. And if you're still here in ten years, I'll be old and tired and probably less inclined to do dangerous things. And you'll show up and ask me to go on adventures and I'll really want to; I promise I will. But I can't."

"So, when I eventually leave the Warehouse again, I'm not allowed back?"

"No. What? No, that's not what I'm saying. It's not _my_ Warehouse; I can't tell it what to do—yet," Claudia winks. "No, what I'm saying is, you can figure out when someone's gonna die. So when Myka—" Claudia clears her throat and blinks profusely, deliberately not looking at you for a few long moments. She takes a deep breath. "When you show up again, I'll know. And I can warn Pete and Artie and everyone else and we can give you guys a few days." She smiles at you, big and sincere like the smile she saves for family. She's crying and neither of you mention it. "It's gonna be the best time of my life, having you here all the time. I know because I just lived it for eight months, even if they were kinda fake. But after that, I think—I think I need to just be Claudia."

This time, you're the one reaching out for a hug. "I can abide by that."

"You can still come back and visit Myka. I think you should never stop doing that, actually. But just don't get me involved. I don't need to see you guys do…whatever it is that you do."

"Careful, darling. That sounds like a challenge."

"Gross."

/

Myka is already in Artie's office by the time you get there. You don't know if that's because Leena told her you were here or because she doesn't know how to walk at a pace slower than 'brisk'.

Either way, you're extraordinarily happy to see her.

"Helena," she grins.

You match her smile. "Hello, Myka."

Claudia stretches in a dramatic yawn. "God, is it 4:15 already? Boy, that's way past my bedtime." She winks at you as she opens the door to the umbilicus.

Myka laughs and shakes her head. "Claudia Donovan, resident actress."

"She is not without charm."

Myka crosses her arms over her chest and leans against a desk. "How have you been, Helena? How long has it been?"

"My answer to that question will indubitably be different than yours," you smirk. "How long has it been for you?"

"A couple of weeks," she answers. "Three and a half, maybe."

"Ahh," you sigh. "Yes, I win, then."

"You look tired."

"I am weary."

"I know a library with a really great couch."

"Lead the way, dear Myka. I am ever at your heel."

/

"So, where'd you two go?" Myka asks as you settle into the sofa.

"How do you know we went anywhere?"

"Claudia gets crazy-eyes after too much time travel. That girl is gonna have some quality REM sleep tonight."

You scoot over to make room for Myka. She curls her feet under her and rests an elbow on the arm of the couch. "We went to the Netherlands."

"That's it? All of time and space, and you go to the Netherlands?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe later."

"Oh, you're staying for longer than a millisecond? How much later?"

"Five years, seven years," you yawn. "Pardon my manners, darling; jetlag seems to be catching up with me. Maybe even fifteen," you finish.

"You'll still be here, will you?" Myka grins.

"Yes."

"Helena?"

"I have spent centuries chasing adventure, Myka; chasing adventure and pretending I wasn't terrified of standing still. Time Lords are not meant to be sedentary creatures, but I think I can be—I _want_ to be—for you."

She shakes her head, bouncing her curls against her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Leena's always has more than a few spare rooms," you clarify, taking her hand. "And, depending on how hospitable you're feeling, perhaps I won't even need one."

"Helena, what are you saying?"

"I have seen suns explode. I have seen cities fall and armies triumph. I have heard the song of humanity and watched the birth of stars. And nothing, in all of my nine hundred years, is so enchanting to me as the sight of your smile."

"Helena—"

"I am very madly in love with you, darling." You pull her hand to your chest. "These two hearts of mine, they're beating out your name."

Myka laughs, bringing her free hand up to wipe at her eyes. "God, stop with the lines. Any more of those and I'll be proposing right here."

"I could get married," you chuckle.

"You could?"

"I'm a time-traveling alien, Myka" you smirk. "I can do whatever the bloody hell I want."

She laughs, smiling your favorite crooked smile. "Can you do whatever the bloody hell _I_ want?"

"Always."

It knocks the smile right off of her face, that word. There are some that consistently do that. Words like _always_ and _never_, _first_ and _last_. It's time, you realize. Time steals breath, knocks smiles and makes them grow again. It dulls your mind and heightens your wit; strips away sensation and leaves you with more feeling than you can bear.

Time is constant and cruel. It does not relent. It does not forgive. It will defeat you, sometimes more than once.

And yet, every once in a while, it will forget. There are wars being fought every day. Children die. Economies collapse.

In the midst of all that, what does it matter if time stops for one perfect kiss?

Myka's lips are soft. They are pure poetry, gentle sonnets and clinging odes, and you could spend a lifetime reading them. (If you could, you'd make sure it was _your_ lifetime.) There are words in Myka's lips that even you haven't heard.

As always, you try your very best to listen.

(Myka seems to appreciate it.)

Eventually though, time catches up and you pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

"Stay," Myka whispers.

"I intend to."

"Forever?"

"For a very long time."

"How long?"

"There are better uses for your tongue than talking, my dear."

"How long?"

You cup her cheeks and kiss her again, just because you can. "You'll make an old woman out of me."

"You're already old."

"Alright. Old_er_."

Myka kisses you, for no other reason (you presume) than because she can. "Okay. Grow old with me."

"I've got a bit of a head start. You'll have to catch up."

She laughs, throaty and wet. "Helena," she chides.

You laugh and wipe a tear away from her chin. "I'd love to, darling."

"Helena."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

/

Your name is Helena Wells. Acquaintances call you The Doctor. Friends call you H.G. Myka calls you Helena, and your name has never sounded so beautiful.

You work as a consultant for Warehouse 13, a top secret storage facility that houses dangerous artifacts. You live in a kitschy bed and breakfast with a motley crew of agents. Pete wakes you up every morning with his cartoons and Claudia never sleeps.

You have a wife and a job and a TARDIS for when you get restless. Myka is always restless with you. There is a whole galaxy made of sapphires. You're saving that one for an anniversary.

The year is 2027. You've been at the Warehouse for over a decade and you don't intend to leave anytime soon.

(You don't know it yet, but you will leave. You will leave and come back in 2045. Artie will be gone. Claudia will have the beginnings of wrinkles. Pete will have two bad knees. Myka will have three days left.

But there is a time to think about that, and it is not now.)

Life is made of terribly difficult decisions.

Staying with Myka is not one of them.


End file.
